Slushied
by MaeEmma
Summary: When Blaine transfers to McKinley, he experiences the fine art of being slushied, and Kurt cleans him up. Oneshot. Klaine.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee, or Tide.

So most Gleeks like myself have heard the rumors that Blaine will be going to McKinley sooner or later. So I had a little bit of inspiration (and writer's block from my chapters story) to write this. **Reviews **are like good-tasting candy, and if you like this, read my other story! (Please?)

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It all happens in a rush. There's no warning, nothing, not even any death threats to build the tension. At my old school, old, old school, even before Dalton, they just kind of had this wicked smile plastered on there face, and then they ganged up on you and then _wam- _they punch you in the stomach, and run of laughing, "Ha! Fag!" Here they were much more creative, certainty, and I can't really decide whether I like this method of assault better then the one's I'm used too.

So this is what happened: It was my first day at McKinley and I was (innocently) walking through the hallway with Kurt. We weren't even holding hands or anything, but I guess they just knew I was gay. That or they just assumed anyone who was walking with Kurt through the hallway was gay.

You would of sworn they rehearsed and choreographed this. Kurt and I walked side-by-side and we where trying to find my locker. Kurt had just transferred last week- my parents took a little longer to convince. It was weird how everyone acted as though he'd never left. So the two boys in football jackets approached us, and one of them I recognized as Karofsky from when he was tormenting Kurt. I could hear Kurt's sentence about Glee club stop short in fear, and when I saw his face, it wasn't that look Kurt got when he was afraid, how his eyes opened so wide you'd think they'd fall out and how his mouth wasn't really open but it wasn't really closed either, instead his eyes where closed tight and his lips where pressed together. I spotted the toxic green drink the big guy's hand, but didn't think anything of it until-

Wam.

Suddenly, my face was freezing and I couldn't see. As my brain evaluated what had just happened, I heard them slap hands and yell, "Homos!"

I fell to my knees. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs in not only agony but in rage.

"There's syrup in my eyes!" I yelled at Kurt, who was still standing. I could hear him mutter something under his breath like, "This is a new jacket."

The feeling of the freezing, penetrating, sticky liquid seeping under my shirt is vile, and it's literally as painful as a punch, possibly worse. Not to mention my white tee shirt would now be tye-dyed green for the word to see. My eyes sting terribly, like little knives or a swarm of wasps.

I was muffling a cross between a moan and a scream under my breath. Kurt pulled me up into standing position by the fabric on my sleeve.

Grasping my arm, he walked with me into the boy's room while I rubbed my eyes and moaned, "Ow. Ow. Ow," repeatedly under my breath.

Kurt pushed the swinging door open with his shoulder and instructed me to sit on the counter with the sink. Of course, I couldn't open my eyes without feeling stabbing pain, and it didn't even help that when I did open them for a second or two, my sight was blurred, and it may of been my imagination, and tinted green.

"I can't see." I moaned to Kurt, after cursing to the feeling of my eyes opening. I was seriously concerned for the sake of my vision.

He sighed and pushed me over to the sink. I was able to pull myself up onto the counter, but of course, I fell into the sink and my back was stabbed by the faucet and my head slammed into a mirror. I swore, much louder this time, rubbing my back with one hand, rubbing my eyes with the other, and leaving my poor, damaged head alone because I was running out of arms.

"Okay, well, first, stop rubbing your eyes. You'll only get the dye in deeper, smart stuff." Kurt said. There was still fierce annoyance in his voice, which probably led to too my new name, 'smart stuff,' too.

I took this opportunity to rub the back of my head. Sure, I would probably be walking around with the hair on the back of my head going in different directions and sticking there from the massive amounts gel in my hair, but my poor head was in too much pain too care.

I heard the faucet in the sink next to me start to run water. "Take your shirt off." Kurt ordered.

I was extremely, _extremely _confused. "What? Why?" I asked.

"Because I want to have the pride of getting you shirtless in a public bathroom. Duh, Blaine! So I can get your magnificent sticky green stains out! Unless you want to walk around like that for the rest of day." Kurt said, sarcastically.

"Uh, thanks for the offer, Kurt, but I don't think you can get these stains out with hard soap." I mumbled. I figured the last thing I needed was a green, soaking wet shirt on my first day.

"No, I don't think I can either, that's why I'm using detergent." Kurt said. My eyes where closed, but I could just picture his sarcastic look: hands on his hips, lips puckered, staring at you like your insane.

"There's detergent in here?" I asked, puzzled. This school had detergent in the boys room? Maybe there really where extreme bullying problems here.

"Not yet, at least. I have a Tide stick in my pocket. I'll rip the top off." Kurt explained.

"Oh," I said, feeling like an idiot. Slowly, I pulled my shirt off and held it in my hand for a second before Kurt grabbed it, throwing it into the sink with a splash. "Are you doing your jacket, too?"

I hated being so vulnerable- half naked and blind. I couldn't even see Kurt's face. Did he, well, uh, like my shirtless body? Or did he just silently cringe and look away? I hated not being able to know.

"I'm afraid there's no hope for my jacket. It's dry clean only." Kurt said, sighing. "But can wear the shirt I'm wearing under it. You, on the other hand, can't, because I don't know about your other school before Dalton, but we don't exactly allow kids prancing through the hallways half-naked. Though, with those cheerleaders and their skimpy outfits, you'd think it'd be fine. Not one of them I haven't caught a glimpse of their underwear, which is often rather disturbing."

I used to know a couple kids who went to private school all their lives, and this was how they'd describe a public school: cheerleaders and girls in skimpy outfits and constant assault from the nearest football player. This school was every stereotype I'd ever heard of, complete with dumb blonds and, well, Kurt, the fashion sensitive gay boy.

"I can't wait. This year is going to be great." I moaned, voice dripping sarcasm.

"The slushies should only be daily, until, say, next month? Once there used to you it's more of a weekly thing. But you'll learn to close you eyes. It's not nearly as bad when your prepared." Kurt said. "But when you start Glee, every time we do a public performance it's a couple extra slushies for the next week or so. Then there's the stranded public-humiliation stunt you'll manage to pull of which with cause double the slushies for the next month. Plus, whenever they get bored you might get a random extra one."

I bit my lip. Maybe transferring to McKinley was a bad idea after all.

"But it's just a simple routine after you remember to bring an extra shirt to school and get into the habit of closing your eyes whenever you see a football player or a drink. I wouldn't worry about it. I'll bring a couple extra Tide sticks to school for you." Kurt said, smiling.

I smiled a nervous, halfhearted smile, "Yay?"

Kurt must of threw his head back, laughing. "Wear contacts, too. They help the first couple weeks."

Suddenly, I felt a warm cloth meet my sticky face. I relaxed, breathing out the endless tension I'd been feeling about slushies, completely forgetting about it.

"Don't worry about anything, Blaine," Kurt whispered in my ear. "I'll protect you with my endless supply of Tide sticks."

I smiled, feeling Kurt's hot breath on my cheek. "Thank you." I whispered back.

"Don't worry about it," Kurt said, putting his face so close to mine out noses touched.

"I would never," I breathed, and in less then a couple seconds, we were kissing, Kurt's arms around my neck so I could feel the warm, wet cloth he was holding drip onto my back.

Maybe McKinley wouldn't be so bad.

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This has nothing to do with the story I'm currently writing- (which I think you should read?). I'm probably going to be mauled by lions for having Kurt have this weird obsession for Tide sticks in not only one but two stories. **Reviews **are awesome!


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